Pot and Kettle

Oop. Sebastian had definitely seen Aoife like this before. Yet it never ceased to catch him off guard when it happened. What bothered him more than her present state was that she was alone. Drinking alone never lead to good places. He knew from experience many, many years ago.

She wobbled and Sebastian moved to steady her, but stopped himself short when she seemed to keep herself upright. Somehow. A slight chuckle at her words, though. I seem to recall my arrows saving you a fair number of times as well.

The drink that had brought her to this state - and possibly cell - was still within her grasp. Sebastian groaned. No steps taken to cover the disapproval that lingered behind it. I'll have to take your word for it. He'd not had a drink in years, for good reason.

Behaved. Really. Sebastian laughed. Aoife, the last time you behaved... he trailed off, then shook his head with another chuckle. I take it back, when have you ever? The glimmer of mirth in his blue eyes destroyed any chance of looking disapproving.

Without that 'traitor', I'd not be standing here right now. Sebastian shook his head slightly. It truly bothered him none of the guards on rotation had retrieved him. She was the bloody Champion of Kirkwall, after all. Andraste's sake, what was hard to grasp about that?

One of said guards returned, then, with a wineskin in his hands. A slight frown flickered over his lips until the guard assured him it was, in fact, water. To that, Sebastian nodded and held it out for trade to Aoife. Save the rest of the ale for later?

This wasn't the first time in his memory he'd tried to help sober a friend like her.